Black Master, white sissy Part 2

Then the sissy thing... I had never liked crossdressers, trannies, what ever you wanted to call them. I avoided drag shows and couldn’t understand why these were so popular with both straights and gays. Now I began to consider the idea what my antipathy was based on fear of a similar tendency in my self. It was difficult to unravel my feelings on this as it was so tied up with my need for humiliation. And it was on that level that I dimly began to recognise that I might begin to accept it.

Finally, I also knew for certain that I longed to escape from the boring, mundane, respectable life I was leading. I wanted to say, 'Fuck you' to the straight world I lived in. I had conformed too long. This tough, little black skinhead was offering me a way out and I was determined to go for it, no matter what I had to go through.

So the week that followed my second meeting was interminable; but it was useful too because it gave me a chance to come to terms with those things about myself that I had always run away from. And it led to a kind of recklessness to the extent that I was determined to show this cocky bastard that I was taking it seriously, that I did want to be what he wanted me to be.

But mostly I occupied myself with transforming myself. There were a number of problems with that. First and foremost, there was no way I was going to parade through the streets as a sissy. No matter what punishment he was going to inflict on me - and I was sure he would - I would only wear stuff under a tracksuit. Then there was the problem about what to get and where to get it. Time was of the essence so shopping on the internet was out. I did a bit of research about sizes and set off to a department store.

The shame of shopping for women’s lingerie was almost too much for me to bear. Everyone had to know who it was intended for just in term of sizes. There was NO WAY I would try anything on. I just had to hope for the best. Somehow I managed.

I bought... a black lacy bra, black panties, a black lacy garter belt with little straps, a red mini skirt, a black blouse, and red heeled shoes. About a four inch heel. I took them home. I stripped and put them on. I looked in a mirror. I was amazed by what looked back at me. Despite being wig-less and without makeup, I was ...sexy. And my cock raised itself to a phenomenal hardness.